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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/24992092">For the Photo</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/Mestia/pseuds/Mestia'>Mestia</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Of Knights &amp; Royalty, Original Work</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, F/M, Implied Sexual Content, Lingerie, Suggestive Themes</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-06-30</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-06-30</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-04 03:15:41</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Teen And Up Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>1,792</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/24992092</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/Mestia/pseuds/Mestia</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>He's meant to be professional about this.</p>
<p>As long as he was Rosé and not Ambr, he could handle even the most beautiful of models, even at the most explicit of pictures. Mind of steel, body of titanium. </p>
<p>This was no different. </p>
<p>(It was very different.)</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Ambrosia Adstrum | Ambr | Rose/Sumire Luni | Violet</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Collections:</b></td><td>Of Knights &amp; Royalty</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>For the Photo</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><ul class="associations">
      <li>For <a href="https://archiveofourown.org/users/exitium/gifts">exitium</a>.</li>



    </ul><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>Violet aka Sumire belongs to Miss Reveli !!!</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>He's meant to be professional about this.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Rosé is a role he falls into with practiced ease. He had developed the mindset - persona - of Rosé shortly after he had dabbled into this risqué business of gravure and erotic photography. He had always been more into the photograph than the model; into the outcome more than the process. There was no reason for him to fall further than the surface. Exterior beauty was his only concern. It's what raked in the cash, after all. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Rosé never fell in love with any of his models. Rosé kept everyone at an arm's length. Rosé cared more about the money, period.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>As long as he was Rosé and </span>
  <em>
    <span>not </span>
  </em>
  <span>Ambr, he could handle even the most beautiful of models, even at the most explicit of pictures. Mind of steel, body of titanium. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>This was no different. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>(It was very different.)</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>A part of him </span>
  <em>
    <span>is</span>
  </em>
  <span> aware that he's definitely breaching his own rules. Rosé keeps a distance of half a meter at the closest, swapping lenses, zoom in, zoom out. He stands on items to get a better vantage, he gets on the ground to get a better angle. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>No matter how racy, always minimal contact. Just like how Rosé is made, eyes only, no touching. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Yet.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>"Raise your arms for me," he says, looking through his scope. Sumire shifts in her position, doing as she's told. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He takes a shot. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>She's beautiful.</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Her hair is splayed out against the sheets of the canopy, in the right arrangement of dark lavender against crème. Her lingerie tonight is a light rose colour, silky and soft with lace at the edge; transparent, yet modest. For the final touch, she carries a fragrance of vanilla and flora, enough to make him a little intoxicated by the sweet scent.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>She's absolutely </span>
  <em>
    <span>ideal</span>
  </em>
  <span>.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>(Man, when placed upon perfection, becomes overcome with greed. Ambr is no different.)</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Rosé takes another shot. The shutter noise fills the room. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He takes a look at his preview from the camera's screen and frowns.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>"Something wrong?" Sumire asks from her position on the bed, eyebrow raised. "You don't look satisfied."</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>"The problem lies within me, honey," he replies with a smile with practiced ease. He's used to this; he's </span>
  <em>
    <span>Rosé</span>
  </em>
  <span>. "You're flawless as you are. I'm just dissatisfied with what I'm coming up with."</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>"Ha, feeling burned out already, Mr Photographer?"</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>"Maybe," he bites down on his lollipop stick, contemplating. "I'm missing something."</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He looks through the scope again. No matter how much he adjusts his lens, stands high or bends low, Rosé is only met with frustration. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>She's so </span>
  <em>
    <span>perfect</span>
  </em>
  <span> yet how can he hope to capture true beauty </span>
  <em>
    <span>like this?</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Rosé pauses. It hits him like a freight train.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>The distance</span>
  </em>
  <span>.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He's an idiot. How can this distance between them truly encompass the beauty that lies before him?</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He feels something hot lodge in his stomach, but he pushes the thought aside. He's </span>
  <em>
    <span>Rosé</span>
  </em>
  <span>; this is all for the picture. All for the quest to capture the perfection through his lens.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>"I need a better view," he shrugs, letting the camera hang from his neck. "Excuse me. Hope you don't mind; it's all for the photo, I swear."</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>She raises her eyebrows as he makes his way towards the bed, sitting up, only to yelp as he crawls between her legs, positioning himself close; with essentially </span>
  <em>
    <span>no distance at all.</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <span>(A part of him is aware he's breaking his own rules as Rosé. But it's for the photo, therefore he is still Rosé.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Not Ambr.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Or is he?)</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>"Lie back down," he pats her thigh soothingly, chuckling at her scepticism. "It's all for the photo. I won't do anything that isn't."</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Sumire seems to see the innocence in his eyes, because she complies after a long beat. There's tension in her expression which makes the next shot he takes more rigid, but the new view definitely increases the allure. It's closer to what he's looking for.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>(It's also the closest he's ever been to a model. </span>
  <em>
    <span>What happened to keeping distance, Rosé? </span>
  </em>
  <span>a voice in his head mocks him, but Ambr refuses to listen.)</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>"The angle helps, but sweetheart," he takes a moment to take his lollipop out and give it a lick. "You're doing really well. "</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Something about his notion seemed to switch something inside of her, because he felt her relax a little bit, shifting her legs to a more comfortable position from underneath him. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>"Yeah?" She says, looking at him from below, eyes through the lens. "How is it?"</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>"It's looking </span>
  <em>
    <span>really good</span>
  </em>
  <span>, but, hm," he places the camera down, hand on his chin. "Maybe we could make it more alluring. May I?"</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>"Of course."</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>"For the photo," he winks. She sticks out his tongue in mock defiance, but settles down for him. Rosé chuckles once more, before his eyes draw down to make his adjustments. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Hm.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Rosé feels her gaze on him while his eyes follow every trace, every curve of her body. He ignores the intensity, focusing only on improving his next few shots in however way he can. For the photo, he needs the very best, after all. No matter what he has to do.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>(Ambr knows how much it sounds like an excuse.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Maybe it is.)</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>His hands start to wander across her body then. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>First point of call is to shift the fabric of her lingerie; he wants modest, yes, but also exposure. Rosé pushes the chemise up her body in slow movement, folding the silk over itself, exposing her underwear. He pulls down on the lace with his right hand, brushing his fingers above her pelvis with the leather of his glove, creating a mismatched fold where half exposes her midriff, half hides it. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He hears her breath hitch. Rosé ignores it.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>(It sounded </span>
  <em>
    <span>thrilling</span>
  </em>
  <span>.)</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>"This looks more promising," he says, content.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Still, that only covers her nightgown. There's still more to be improved in this piece. He can't stop there.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>(He doesn't want to, anyway.)</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>She squirms a bit when his hands brush down her stomach, just above the band of her underwear. He pretends to not notice. Even when he hooks his left finger around the lace and pulls down, just a bit, he pretends to not hear the whimper that escapes her lips.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>"For the photo," he repeats, giving her an apologetic smile. Sumire only blinks at him. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>His next task is to adjust her chest area. She didn't have much of an asset, but it was no real issue; all sizes have their own charm, at least in his opinion. Still, there was something to be done, even just the slightest difference adds a great effect to his composition. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He lets his finger trace where the bra ends and the chemise begins, pulling on the band to measure the tightness. She shifts a bit, and when he draws it over her cleavage, a gasp escapes her lips. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>"</span>
  <em>
    <span>Tease.</span>
  </em>
  <span>"</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He feigns blissful ignorance.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Rosé pulls on the strap of her bra, letting it loosely dangle from her shoulder. The padding opens to more cleavage, revealing more of herself while also still hiding enough for imagination. It was perfect, exactly how he would have imagined.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Then he sees it. Her expression.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>And his self control - his walls as </span>
  <em>
    <span>Rosé</span>
  </em>
  <span> - starts to crumble.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Sumire's irises are hazy, staring right into his hazel gradient, almost </span>
  <em>
    <span>pleading</span>
  </em>
  <span>. Her lips are parted, deep, slow breaths slipping in and out while her cheeks are painted with a lovely red hue. Sweat drips down her jaw line, and that's when it dawns on him.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>That between her legs, where he sits, against his crotch that she's…</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Ah.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He's losing it.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>She looks so angelic, ethereal, laid down beneath him. Picture perfect. The very epitome of what he searches for in beauty.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The devil inside him laughs.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Rosé. Ambr. He's lost sight of what he is meant to be - but. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>It's all for the photo.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He inhales sharply. The candy he had been eating had been long gone, and he tosses aside the stick without much thought.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Whoever he is, it doesn't matter; what he needs is </span>
  <em>
    <span>more</span>
  </em>
  <span>. He looks onto the scope, and still feels as if it's not </span>
  <em>
    <span>enough</span>
  </em>
  <span>.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>(</span>
  <em>
    <span>He</span>
  </em>
  <span> does not have </span>
  <em>
    <span>enough.</span>
  </em>
  <span>)</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Letting the camera dangle from his neck again, his body moves on his own. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>"For the photo," he says it in verbatim.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Then he leans down, feeling her shift in surprise when he presses his lips against her neck. It's a tender kiss, simple and sweet; until he opens his mouth and lets his teeth sink in. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The gesture comes as such a surprise, she accidentally bucks against him in a reflex. Instinctively he holds her down as he places the bite - not too hard to draw blood, but enough to leave a visible mark with the sharpness. He paints over it with his tongue, slow and sensual, before he draws back. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>When he looks upon the sight, he can't help but truly </span>
  <em>
    <span>marvel.</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <span>She's so </span>
  <em>
    <span>fucking</span>
  </em>
  <span> perfect.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>"You're doing this on purpose," she replies, breathless, the saliva from his bite sliding down her neck, mixing in with her sweat. "Is this really just for the photo?"</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>"Of course," he takes his camera again and looks through the scope, hiding his face with the lens. Hiding the lust that darkens his eyes, hiding the </span>
  <em>
    <span>desire</span>
  </em>
  <span> that swallows him whole. "We need the best natural beauty can offer."</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>She falls silent. The noise of the shutter fills the void.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>"If we need the best," she wraps her legs around his waist, and rolls her hips. His grip around the camera tightens. "I have a few suggestions."</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>"Oh, and what would that be?"</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>"Add yourself."</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Shutter noise.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>"I can't do that," he says over the flash, "It would ruin the illusion."</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>"But it certainly would help you find the beauty you seek so desperately, no?"</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Another shutter noise. He takes a deep breath.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Just like that, Rosé is gone.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Those words act akin to the devil's temptation. The greed comes in waves; he finds himself losing control the more seconds that slip by, falling victim to lust. With the way she lies there, goading him on, dangling herself readily like </span>
  <em>
    <span>bait</span>
  </em>
  <span> -</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>How could he </span>
  <em>
    <span>not</span>
  </em>
  <span>?</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He's only human. He's only </span>
  <em>
    <span>Ambr.</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Therefore, Ambr gives in.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>"You're absolutely right," he puts the camera down, pulling the strap away from his neck, placing it safely aside. Her eyes glisten with anticipation when he leans in, grinding against her </span>
  <em>
    <span>intentionally.</span>
  </em>
  <span> "Effects are needed to make a photo more believable."</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>"For the photo," she breathes against his lips, arms around his neck.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>"For the photo," he echoes, hands already slipping under the folds of her lingerie.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>For my own desire.</span>
  </em>
</p>
  </div></div>
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